Hell on Wheels 1x3

A New Birth of Freedom

& Cullen: Elam, I need you and your men...
    Elam: It’s Mr. Ferguson.
    Cullen: Elam...

& Engineer: So, what I would, uh, propose is we straighten the route.
    ’Doc’: The route remains the same.
    Engineer: But Mr. Durant, as I understand it, the deadline has been pushed up. And in light of Central Pacific’s recent advances...
    ’Doc’: Keep to the plan. I’ll make it a reality.

& Elam: We got to do their work and our work. But this ain’t for them. This is for us. White man ain’t gonna give you nothin’ because they want us to fall. They all want us to fall.

Kasey Chambers & Shane Nicholson — Rattlin’ Bones

♪ Sun don’t rise if you don’t burn ♪
♪ sun don’t shine no more ♪

♪ Wonderin’ what the day will bring ♪
♪ shut my eyes and hang my head ♪
♪ at least that bird... ♪

♪ Draggin’ this bag of stones ♪
♪ till they bury me down ♪
♪ beneath the ground ♪
♪ with the dust and rattlin’ bones ♪

---

& Mr. Toole: Just what do you want, ya mule colored bastard?
    Elam: Spend some hard earned money, same as you.
    Mr. Toole: Same as me, he says. Have ya looked in the mirror lately, Mr. Ferguson? You think we the same, well then, you got a big surprise coming, I tell ya. Face like a coal scuttle* he has.

& Eva: And who would you be?
    Elam: Your next customer.

& Lily: Have I done something?
    Cullen: It ain’t what you done, it’s who you are.
    Lily: What do you mean?
    Cullen: You ain’t whore nor squaw. You shouldn’t be out here.
    Lily: You don’t know who I am or what I’m capable of!
    Cullen: No, I don’t, and I sure as hell don’t care.

& ’Doc’: Henri?.. Your look of disdain reminds me of my dear wife back in New York. What Hannah failed to grasp is that where most men seek the warm glow that only whiskey can provide, I imbibe* to fuel a conflagration*. There’s a fire in my belly which must be fed. Otherwise, we’ll never see the Pacific.

& Sean: I have followed your exploits and investments since I got off the boat. How you rose up from nothing, pulled yourself up by your bootstraps. You’re a gentlemen and a true capitalist.
    ’Doc’: Thank you.

& ’Doc’: You left a beautiful life to come and wallow in this filth and squalor and muck.
    Sean: Well, it beats starving to death.
    ’Doc’: No, but you could have remained in New York or Boston or Chicago... There’s plenty of work to be had. Yet you chose to come here. It makes me wonder why.
    Sean: I’m not quite sure what you mean, sir.
    ’Doc’: Well, you and thousands like you have followed me out here, and I’m genuinely curious. Why?

& Bolan: My ear! My ear! My ear! Where is it?

& Reverend Cole: ’And they will hammer their swords into plowshares... And their Spears into pruning hooks. Nations will not lift up swords against nations. And never again will they learn war. Never again.’ Isaiah, chapter 2, verse 4...
    ’Doc’: ’Wake up the mighty men, let all the men of war draw near. Hammer your plowshares into swords and your pruning hooks into Spears.’ Job, chapter 3, verse 10. I, too, am sick of war, Reverend. But we must consistently ask ourselves what is worth fighting for? What is worth laying our lives on the line for?..

& ’Doc’: Robert Bell gave his life for this undertaking. For this grand idea, and I assure you, he did not give his life in vain, for he knew what this railroad would mean to us as a nation. He knew this railroad is a new birth of freedom. Not just the freedom of long distance travel, but the freedom to choose your fate, the freedom to make your fortunes in this untamed land.
        And we cannot let that freedom be threatened by rag-tag bands of marauding stone age primitives. But... that is not to say that there is not a peaceful solution. If they will put down their sticks and stones and come into the fold, like this young man here... Then we will talk peace. ...
        If these violent nomads roaming the plains are willing to do as he has done, then there is very real hope that our mission might be accomplished peacefully. If not... Then they are the authors of their own destruction.

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scuttle — ведро для угля; трусость; поспешно удирать
imbibe — впитывать
conflagration — пожарище

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